


Peeping Tom (Or, How Danny Williams Got Pussy Whipped)

by SBG



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Cats, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: Certain four-legged beasts make it difficult for a couple of guys to get it on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My feelings: OMG, I wrote something. Not sure what to call it, but I wrote it. Hurrah! Please note that in addition to finally getting a wee bug, I also decided to challenge myself by making each section 666 words. *shrugs* I think I thought it was clever, and then I got too stubborn to deviate.
> 
> Knowledge of slight cat-world building done in Aloha Popoki (Hello Kitty) and [With Two Cats in the Yard (Life Used to be So Hard)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4392848) would be helpful here. These are just random snippets, so nothing season-specific is really noted.
> 
> Also, I saw this little guy and decided I needed my own [Sriracha](https://flic.kr/p/M7wDcu). What? Look at his sweet face!

Danny would admit to himself that sometimes he was a bit of an egoist. He didn’t seek it out or look for it publicly with any sincerity, and it didn’t happen all that often, but he liked being good at his job and having that fact acknowledged by others within his immediate circle. He burst at the seams if anyone mentioned what a great dad he was to Grace. He relished it when he caught anyone admiring his hard-earned physique. He took a healthy amount of pride in accomplishing things others would deem insurmountable, and, well, successfully getting Steve to extend his whole ridiculous three minute shower routine was definitely a task about which he was very pleased. 

Often quite literally. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Danny mumbled. “Please.”

Steve responded with enthusiasm, doing that thing with his tongue that made Danny’s thoughts turn to _ngggh_ and his legs to jelly. Fortunately, Steve had his hands firmly clamped on his hips, something they’d figured out was a good idea the first time they’d fucked in the shower. Danny ran his hands through Steve’s short hair, tugged at him slightly. Sex like this was never a prolonged event, but if Steve kept the pace he was setting, it would be over before it started. Steve took the cue, continued doing that thing with his tongue, but slower, more torturous.

“God, your mouth is…”

Hot. Sinful. Talented. As it turned out, Steve had many gifts Danny had been happily discovering since they got together. Just when he thought he’d uncovered every last thing about Steve, his partner surprised him. What didn’t surprise him was Steve’s capacity to give – it seemed to Danny that once he’d been granted permission, not that he’d needed it, Steve had run with the freedom to touch, to love, the same way he ran with everything. The man was nothing if not an overachiever and Danny reaped the benefits as often as he could. Steve hummed, the slight vibration adding just enough stimulation to make Danny groan and tip his head back, eyes squeezed shut.

When Steve pulled back suddenly, left him hanging in the cooler shower air, Danny groaned in earnest. His hands scrabbled in search of his partner.

“If you’re talking at all, I’m not doing this right,” Steve said, hoarse and mildly breathless. “Gonna fix that.”

Danny jerked his hips forward, more than ready. He lifted his head and looked down, eyes opening as he prepared to tell Steve who was talking a hell of a lot more than him. His gaze landed on a foreign face winking back at him.

“What the hell!” Danny said, pushing at Steve’s shoulders. 

“What?”

“That.” Danny grabbed Steve’s face and turned his partner to see what he saw. “That cat.”

Sriracha sat just outside the shower, head tilted to the left. Staring with his one eye. The kitten shifted his head around, as if searching for a better angle. As far as Danny was concerned, the water streaming from the showerhead was now ice cold. 

“He’s just curious, Danny,” Steve said, smiling. 

At the cat, of all things. From where Danny stood, it almost looked like Steve was going to abandon him and let the damn cat in for some ear scritches. He could take some nocturnal cat creeping, when it was dark and he could pretend it wasn’t eerie and unnerving to have an implacable feline staring at him, though thankfully they’d been able to lock the cats out since Sulley’s first couple of nighttime voyeuristic visits. But this. This was not okay.

“It’s not normal. Look at him. It’s like he’s contemplating world domination and the many ways he could flay my dick with his claws at the same time.”

On cue, Sriracha let out a yowl and started pawing at the shower door. Steve pressed his forehead against Danny’s hip and started honest-to-goodness _giggling_ , and Danny knew it was over. There was no resurrecting his dick after this. 

Evil, conniving, cockblocking cat.

_=^.^=_

Danny nestled his head into the pillow and let out a contented sigh. He could count on one hand the things he loved more than a Sunday morning sleep-in: Grace, Grace, Steve, Steve and Grace. Ironically the predominant thing on that list robbed him of the lazy Sunday mornings for the first several years of her life. If he were lucky, Steve would assume the role now. Danny didn’t mind all that much, it just made these rare occasions all the more appreciated. 

He slid a hand over to Steve’s side, not expecting his partner to be there. Instead, he grabbed Steve’s pillow and pulled it toward him. It wasn’t as good as the real thing, but it would do until the real thing returned from wherever he’d gotten to – morning swim or run or breakfast – for some easy, lazy Sunday sex. The scent of Steve was enough, the softness nice as he wrapped his arms around the pillow and turned onto his stomach, one leg in a loose V. 

He’d almost drifted back to sleep when the bed jostled and a weight landed on the small of his back. Danny grunted as paws dug into his muscles, sharp pinpricks of claws in need of trimming nipped through his T-shirt and boxers. Thankful he was wearing at least a thin layer, he resumed his path toward slumber. Was again interrupted by a sudden dip in the mattress announced another visitor. This one settled into the crook of his knee.

“Annoying Neanderthal animals,” he murmured. “Must be learned behavior.”

The truth was, Danny had grown used to the heft and warmth of Steve’s furry housemates when they deigned to treat him as more than an interloper. Which, he admitted was more often than not. He might even like it a little. It was strangely comforting. Though he really didn’t need the extra heat himself – “they” kept telling him he’d acclimate to Hawaiian temperatures, but so far nada – he didn’t mind sharing his with the heat-seeking missiles the cats were, that was all.

Usually. 

One second, he was waxing poetic about sweet, fluffy kitties. The next, mayhem yanked him fully awake. The peaceful, easy feeling was out the window. Hisses filled the room, and Danny added his own to the mix as the claws came out as well. It couldn’t have lasted more than a blink, the cats’ turf war enacted on his backside. He kicked out, watched as Racha darted out of the room with Sulley hot on his tail. Cats. Friends one second, enemies the next. Once the flying fur settled, Danny began to feel more ramifications than a disrupted morning of extra sleep. 

“What the shit,” he grumbled. He rolled off the bed, padded to the bathroom. 

The mirror above the vanity was a little high for him to assess the damage, but he knew it was there by the familiar sting. Danny turned on the hot water and dug around the bathroom for a fresh washcloth. He heard Sriracha yowling from downstairs. Under other circumstances, he might have gone to help the poor little guy – it seemed Sulley sometimes turned against Racha on a dime. As it stood, he had to work on disinfecting some wounds in some delicate areas. Cat scratch fever was an actual thing.

He stripped out of his boxers, winced at the sight of blood before he twisted to get a good look. A decent-sized scratch marred his right cheek. He couldn’t see what the other issue might look like, shuddered to think. The throbbing alone… Danny was in the middle of trying to smear Neosporin on his ass when Steve wandered in, hair wet from his swim. He watched in the mirror as his partner adopted a lecherous, anticipatory smile. 

“Oh hell no, McGarrett,” he said. “Don’t even think it. Not after your damn cats came this close to making me sing soprano for the rest of my life.”

Steve’s expression morphed into horror and he hissed in sympathy.

_=^.^=_

It was cliché as hell, but Danny couldn’t stop himself from humming _Mambo Italiano_ while he stirred the bubbling tomato sauce, then turned his attention to the Italian loaves in need of much butter and garlic. He and Steve didn’t get many nights like this, what with their work and Grace and just life – Steve was like one of those perpetual motion machines, rarely still long enough to savor the small pleasures. 

Well, that wasn’t quite so true anymore as it once had been. 

Steve was a work in progress for sure, but the key word there was progress. Danny didn’t mind the work, not when he got a lot of return before he was even fully vested. Scratch that, it was a lie. He had been fully vested without even knowing it since the day he met the guy. 

He smiled to himself and retrieved a sheet pan out of the cupboard. Danny sliced quickly through the loaf of bread, slathering each slice with butter and sprinkling garlic before he wrapped it in foil and placed it on the pan. He sliced half of the other loaf, laying each slice on the pan. He didn’t know if Steve preferred soft bread or toast. He checked the sauce again, dipped in a spoon and licked the back of it. 

“You’re not going to put that spoon back in the pot, are you?” a voice right in his ear said. “It’s unsanitary.”

Damn ninja. Danny managed not to jump, which was much easier to do given the strong arms wrapping around his torso. Steve might have SEAL training, but he was a total octopus. It still gave him a thrill down in the pit of his stomach, the way Steve was so overt with his affection now. In the home only, but that was fine by him. He’d never been much for PDA. He leaned into Steve’s embrace, then deliberately put the spoon into the sauce pot. 

“Babe, we swap all sorts of bodily fluids,” Danny said with a wry smile. “Now you’re concerned about a few germs in the sauce?”

“Mmm, you make a good point.” Steve kissed his neck, just beneath his ear, then flicked his tongue out for a taste of his own. “Smells good.”

“It’s my Nonna’s recipe.” Danny shifted, gave Steve more access. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I didn’t mean the food,” Steve said, one of his hands trailing down.

Kitchen sex wasn’t a thing for Danny. It never had been, anyway. Suddenly the heady aroma of garlic, tomato and basil seemed like a fine aphrodisiac, at least when mixed with Steve’s scent. He pressed himself into Steve, felt his partner was already well on his way to hard. He had forgotten about an appetizer course, he thought as he turned in Steve’s loose embrace. 

He was only moderately embarrassed by how easily Steve lifted him onto a clear space on the counter. Things were going to get a lot more unsanitary than a double-dipped spoon, and he really didn’t care. Steve was in mission mode, his mouth hot, aggressive as he kissed Danny senseless, one hand already deftly unbuttoning Danny’s pants. A wild thought about whether extra virgin olive oil would make a good, if ironic, lube flashed through his head. He really hoped no matter the answer to that question that Steve had more in mind than hand jobs.

As Steve’s big hand wrapped around him, Danny was reminded he quite liked hand jobs. By some unspoken agreement, they both wrested off their shirts, Steve somehow managing to do so while still fondling Danny. 

“God, I nee…” Danny started, startled by a metallic crash from inside one of the cupboards, then a pitiful mewl. 

Like that, Steve abandoned him to open the door. Sriracha bounded out with a disgruntled sound.

“Aw, did big ol’ mean Danny lock you in the cupboard?”

Suddenly it didn’t seem like it was Danny that Steve was interested in stroking. 

Cat, one. Danny, zero. _Again_.

_=^.^=_

For all intents and purposes, they were cohabitating. Danny had reached that conclusion a while back but he hadn’t said as much to Steve. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it himself and didn’t want to upset any emotional apple carts. In most ways, Steve and the word fragile would never, ever be spoken in the same sentence. As far as his emotions. Well, fragile might be overstating, but… he didn’t want to chance a freak out now, when things had been going so well for them.

The buzz of the dryer was faint, but Danny had been expecting it. He knew Steve didn’t like a wrinkled sheet. He sauntered into the laundry room and began pulling the sheets out of the machine, folding as he went though they were going right upstairs and back onto the bed. Yeah. So cohabitating. A random thought about how he, not particularly fond of housework, had ended up being the laundry attendant crossed his mind. Especially considering a full ninety percent of this stuff wasn’t his. There was only one good explanation for it.

Love. 

Man, he was such a sap. Even thinking the L word made his insides turn to mush, so he knew without a doubt it was the truth. Danny scoffed at himself as he hefted the basket of sheets and towels up and headed back into the belly of the house. He spared a glance at the cats, both draped over the back of the recliner, as he headed for the stairs. In a million years, he never would have pegged himself as one to tolerate cats. He had to shake his head. Damn it if he didn’t love those beasts in his own way.

Danny set the laundry basket on his hip as he navigated the stairs. Sure enough, he only made it a third of the way up before both cats were bounding after him silently, then sharply turning directly in his path.

“Hah,” Danny said, sidestepping. “I’m onto your dirty tricks, both of you.”

He zigzagged the rest of the way up the stairs, dodging Sulley and Racha successfully with probably more satisfaction than was healthy. He set the basket on the bed, taking the towels out, then the sheets. He grabbed the towels and the basket, leaving the basket in the hall while he put the towels in the linen closet. When he walked back in the bedroom, he expected to have to wrestle the cats out of the sheets.

Instead, he was tackled into a bear hug from behind and frog-marched toward the bed, the sound of the door slamming shut rattling through the room. The scent of salt and sweat and Steve were instant turn-ons, and he didn’t resist being spun around and tripped onto the mattress. Not when a hot Navy SEAL tumbled right along with him. Danny hadn’t even heard Steve come in from tinkering around with the Marquis, smiled up at Steve’s beautiful, oil-smudged face.

“Animal,” Danny said. 

“You love it,” Steve said, shifting them around so he could rock his already semi-hard dick against Danny. “Don’t deny it.”

Danny didn’t say anything, but he did wriggle an arm free so he could grasp the nape of Steve’s neck and pull him in for a kiss. He shut most of his brain off the second Steve pressed his tongue against his lips, demanding. God, but Steve could kiss and he wanted this. This heated, desperate need, he wanted it to never fade. He moaned into Steve’s mouth, the friction of their clothed cocks a tease of the best kind. 

Fueled by the lust pumping through him, Danny twisted, pushed and rolled so he was on top. Steve might have started this, but Danny was going to steer. Halfway into the roll, an unearthly sound came out of the rumpled-up sheets, then both Sulley and Sriracha leaped out of their cocoon and over Steve’s back. 

“Ow, damn it,” Steve groaned.

So much for their quickie.

_=^.^=_

Sriracha was a bathroom creeper cat. Danny had faced that reality on multiple occasions, all inconvenient. Something about the bathroom really pinged that annoying beast. If the door was closed, there was a yowling cat sitting on the other side of it. Steve was already a pushover about leaving the door open, which gave Danny zero leverage at all. 

Against a cat that was barely out of kittenhood.

It was appalling. Currently Sriracha was stretched tall with his front paws on the rim of the toilet, watching with extreme fascination. Danny was no longer that concerned he was about to get slashed in all the wrong places, but this fixation with the whole pissing process was still disturbing. 

“Move, goof,” Danny said, shutting the lid and flushing. 

With a haughty meow, Sriracha moved to the bath mat and stared at Danny while he rinsed his hands. Expectant, that was the look. Oh, this cat had looks, all right. Being down one eye didn’t hinder him in any way.

“Yeah, yeah. I know what you want.”

Danny let out a sigh as he sat and patted his legs. A second later, Sriracha was on his lap. He’d discovered this quirk of Racha’s at a much more awkward incident – the only time the cat wanted to actively love on him was when he was on the can. It was way, way too weird to let the bugger do this when his pants were around his ankles, and this compromise, well, it worked for him. Sriracha began power-kneading his thigh and purring the way Steve wished the Marquis would. He couldn’t say exactly when this had gone from irritating to endearing, but then that sort of thing apparently sneaked up on him. 

“You’re a cute, weird little guy,” Danny said, stroking the cat’s head, scratching behind the ears. Sriracha flopped to one side, folding like one of those collapsing toys, then popping back up, then down again. The cat curled onto his side and twisted to show his belly, forelegs in the air and still kneading. “So weird.”

He was so intent on rubbing Racha’s stomach and, well, baby talking to him that he didn’t hear a thing until it was too late. 

“Hey, Dann…” Steve said as he barreled into the room. Like cat, like Steve. He halted, gawked, then started to smile. “Oh.”

“Not a word, Steven.”

Steve raised his hands, but his expression said enough. Danny was never going to live this down. Sriracha, aggravated by the interruption, reached up and touched Danny’s face with his paw. Aww, he was only human and he was busted anyway. He resumed cooing and loving on the cat, Steve’s presence be damned. After a little bit, he glanced at his partner, a dare. Except what was looking back at him wasn’t amusement and the promise of future teasing.

“What?” Danny said. 

“It’s just…” Steve shook, then ducked his head. “Never mind.”

“Don’t do that, babe.” Danny stood and dropped the cat gently on the floor. He already knew, partially. Steve’s faces were all catalogued in his brain. This one was a twist on fondness. “You just caught me fondling a cat on the toilet. There’s not much more ridiculous than that.”

Steve laughed warmly. In fact, everything about his expression was warm. Warm eyes, warm smile. 

“That’s just it,” Steve said. “Seeing you being like that with Sriracha isn’t ridiculous. It’s amazing how big of a turn on a man who cares so much for animals is.”

“Ohhhh,” Danny said, leaning.

There was none of that heat and desperation Danny thought he wanted, but the kiss was so much more vital. It was everything, all of the words they may never say to each other. He felt every ounce of love Steve had for him. It made him weaker in the knees than anything ever had before. He and Steve kissed slow and sweet like that as they fumbled into the bedroom. 

This time, there was no feline interference.


End file.
